Bullet Hole
by ThatAutumnNight
Summary: Peter Pan-centric: “Don’t have a mother.” He said to himself and only now did the words hit him full force and he felt the bullet in his heart throb even more painfully.


**Bullet Hole**

A Peter Pan-centric Fic

"Don't have a mother." He said. Not only had he no mother, but he had not the slightest desire to have one. He thought them very over-rated persons.

"Don't have a mother!" Sora had exclaimed in astonishment when the arrogant boy clad in green told him.

"I grew up by myself. Cared for myself." Peter Pan replied to answer the questions he knew Sora was going to ask. "That's all I need. _Myself_." Stealing a little side glance at Tinker Bell, he added, "And _some_ pixie dust." A smug smile spread across his face.

"But what about your happy thoughts?"

"That, too. But I don't see what having a mother has got anything to do with it." He grumbled, twirling around in the air as if making a point.

"A mother," The brunette began, joining his companion in the air, "is the _beginning_ of your happiness. You can't _continue_ being happy if you never even _began_."

Peter froze in mid-twirl and slowly began sinking; his back turned towards the ground and his widened eyes staring into the starry skies above them.

_Never even began?_

His face held the expression of someone who had just been shot. As if the bullet went straight into his heart and stayed there for some reason, just to torture him. He blinked and Sora's face appeared before him. "Hey, Peter Pan!"

Implanting his palm on Sora's nose, he forcefully shoved him away. "Ack! Hey! What's the big idea?"

Sheepishly, the keyblade master turned in the direction of clock tower and said, "I have to go. I have to go lock the other keyholes. I have to leave."

Peter sighed and placed his hands behind his head. He stared sadly at Sora's back. "Well, a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do, I guess. Just promise me you'll come visit. After locking another one of those keyholes, come see me, you hear?"

It was probably after a second or two did Sora finally respond with, "Yeah. I promise." And without another word, he got into the gummi ship, waved goodbye and disappeared, not knowing that his airborne friend had seen him bite his lip and furrow his eyebrows in the reflection cast by Big Ben's face.

_He's going to break his promise, is he?_

_He doesn't have to come see me._

_After all, I'm not his priority._

_Heh. And he's probably got a_ mother _to return to at home_.

He frowned and then immediately shook his head free from these thoughts. _I guess while I'm here, I should see how the Darlings are doing._

He flew through London, taking the path he already knew by heart, to the Darling house. Just before he arrived, though, he noticed a familiar figure walking through the streets wearing a familiar top hat. Silently, he crept behind the tall man and thrust his hat down below his eyes so forcefully that the man's glasses propelled off his face and landed a few inches away.

"Ugh! Didn't your mother _ever_ tell you that it's rude to- Oh, it's you, Peter." John snapped after successfully unlatching the hat, which made his forehead turn faintly pink, from his skull.

"Wow, John! You've gotten huge! And you've got a beard, too! I see you still like wearing ridiculously tall hats." Peter said to him, a hint of laughter in his voice. John, however, was not amused and turned away.

"Yes, well, I see you still haven't grown up." And then he mumbled to himself, "Both in a literal and figurative sense."

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing. Peter, look, I have to go. I've got work to attend to."

"Work? At this hour?" He shook his head from side to side.

John frowned and fiddled a bit with a pocket watch he had taken out from underneath his coat. "I need the money to pay for my mother's medical bills. She's very sick, Peter." He looked down at his watch and tsk'd. "I'm going to be late. Sorry." He said in a rush and ran past Peter, who didn't even bother to follow him, who didn't even turn around to watch him go. He just stood there, looking betrayed.

He had just decided to fly back to his home, when he heard someone crying.

"He didn't come, Mother! He stood me up! He didn't even bother to send me a note or anything! He didn't come. _He didn't come_!"

The sobs were coming from the Darling house, second floor, left window. He flew over and peeked in and found a long haired lady in hysterics kneeling in front of a bed whose occupant was old and looked very sickly.

"Oh, Wendy…" The old lady ran her fingers through her daughter's orange locks in an attempt to calm her down.

_Does Wendy really think she'll be able to help?_ Peter thought. _She's bed-ridden! And old_. But to his surprise, when Wendy lifted her head, there was a smile on her tear-streaked face. He huffed and flew away.

_A mother is the_ beginning _of your happiness_.

_Beginning, huh? Maybe that's why John's working so hard. So he can continue being happy._ Peter raised an eyebrow. He stopped gliding forward and had a great urge to slap himself. _Get those absurd thoughts out of your head._ He scolded himself as he began sinking again. He rolled his eyes, flew to a random nearby window and sat on the windowpane. "_Whatever._ Doesn't mean anything."

Just as he was about to jump off his seat, the light of the room to which the window belonged to turned on and he almost yelled in surprise. He hid right next to the window and took a peek inside. A pair of twins ran in as though being chased, followed by a giggling rather young looking woman.

"Now get in bed! You've still got early morning chores to do tomorrow." She reprimanded despite the fact that her cheeks were flushed with her laughs.

"Aaaaaw." The two identical boys cried in unison.

Peter smirked at the two boys he recognized. "See. If you'd stayed with me, you wouldn't _have_ to have anyone tell you to go to bed. Or do chores. If you'd stay lost, you wouldn't have to put up with _her._"

And for a moment, Peter had brought back all the original feelings and thoughts he had about mothers and embedded them back into his heart. _Bossy. Unneeded. Over-rated._ But when he peeked in again, his smirk dropped and everything spilled back out, leaving the bullet throbbing against the hole in his heart.

The woman was tucking them in, one twin at a time; inserting their blankets around and underneath their bodies to make them feel all snug and fit. She smiled and kissed their foreheads and bade them goodnight.

"Tell us a story."

"Yeah, a story!"

"About Peter Pan, again?"

"Yes!"

"Our favorite one!"

Peter moved in a bit closer, not even minding the fact that he could get caught at any instant. So they told stories about him until now, he thought.

"Peter Pan was a boy who lived in Neverland. He didn't have a mother and he never grew up," the story began as Peter had always heard it begin. But this time, he didn't want to hear any more stories about him and how he grew up and all the adventures he had and especially how he managed to get through life without a mother. There were kids who foolishly admired him for that, but the twins said, "Poor, Peter. He don't know what he's missing!"

And the bullet in his heart throbbed again. He waited for the story to finish to see if they changed anything. _Anything at all_. But nothing changed and finally, he heard the kids say their goodnights.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight.", came the mother's reply.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"We love you."

Peter watched the mother's face and saw how her lips curved up into a grin and how her eyes lighted up. "I love you, too." And then the room turned dark and there was silence, so Peter left after quietly uttering a goodnight, hoping that maybe somebody would answer back.

He flew back to Neverland. Second star to the right. And straight on 'till morning. But he must've flown too fast, he realized, because when he returned home, the sky was still sprinkled with stars that twinkled brightly in the dark blue sky.

"Hey, Tink! I'm home."

There was no response. No twinkling or floating light. And then he remembered that he had asked Sora to take her along with him, to keep him safe. Peter laughed at himself. How could someone forget something like that? But his laugh died away almost as suddenly as it came and he felt saddened.

_He_ _really isn't coming back. Is he?_

_Sure, he won't be coming back_ so soon, _but I just know he won't be coming back _at all.

"He didn't come." He whispered as he stood in the middle of his house, trying it out, feeling the words flow out of his lips and wondered if someone was going to run her hand through his hair and say, "Oh, Peter…" just so he could feel better.

"He didn't come. He didn't come. _He didn't come_." He whispered aggressively, like it was an enchantment of some sort, but nothing happened.

Giving up, he sneaked into his room and crawled into bed, trying to tuck his blanket underneath him by himself. Surrendering to that, too, he simply turned on his side and closed his eyes and thought of the things he was going to do tomorrow.

He could snitch to the crocodile; tell him where Hook was hiding. After all, no one ever told him it was rude to scare people, or make their lives just a bit more difficult.

He could play with the mermaids and tell them stories about himself all day long. After all, he didn't need to work for someone who was sick. Wouldn't that be such a hassle?

Or maybe, he could just happily fly around Neverland.

_A mother is the_ beginning _of your happiness_.

He didn't know when he started, but it was only after a while did he notice that his pillow was wet and that salty tears were streaming down, across the bridge of his nose to the cotton fabric under him.

It was all right that he was awake at that hour, because no one was going to tell him it was his bedtime, but that only made fatter tears fall from his eyes. No one was going to tell him silly bedtime stories, either or make him do chores, but that only made the tears fall faster.

_You can't_ continue _being happy if you never even_ began.

"Don't have a mother." He said to himself and only now did the words hit him full force and he felt the bullet in his heart throb even more painfully. It was the first night Peter Pan cried himself to sleep, knowing full well he did not have a mother and the bullet in his chest was there to remind him of the big hole he had in his heart.

* * *

First three lines belong to J.M. Barrie. Person who wrote Peter Pan.

Aaaa~h, wanted to submit it for Mother's Day, but it didn't make it. Plus, I don't feel very ... nicely.. about this one. There are just parts that seem wrong about it.

Got inspiration while I was reading _Inkheart_ again. I found the first three lines there. Page 283. Check it out if you've got the book. The chapter title is "Only an Idea".

Yeah, the first fic that barely has any Kingdom Hearts in it, and I have to write about Peter Pan. Oh well.

Oh, Sora, how your words hurt him.


End file.
